


A Favour for a Friend

by bircheswatching



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: Biotechnology, Body Horror, Kink Discovery, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-09 17:00:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13485861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bircheswatching/pseuds/bircheswatching
Summary: Cascabel is professionally curious about Even's new look, and Even likes to be useful. That's definitely all that's going on here, no other feelings or inclinations on either side.Just two dudes who appreciate specialist hardware accidentally inventing a new genre of kink.





	A Favour for a Friend

**Author's Note:**

> Thank u Toft for the proofread, and for being the original subscriber to the bespoke biotech body horror and shipping shit-post newsletter.

He runs his hands along the workbench that he's leaning against, away from the rack of sterile tools, neatly laid out. Remembers how the last time he was here, when it was the basement of a diner, his hands turned flat and hungry despite his better judgement; a self-preservation instinct, maybe, in the face of the battle to come. Stress-eating.

_("You_ ate _them? All that work we did—")_

Is distracted from that guilty memory by another anxiety, beating with his pulse in his back. He soothes it with a long exhale and pushes it down with the thrum of his excitement.

_("Can't say the end result isn't pretty good, though, man. I_ am _very curious how it integrated the q-glass. Could I...?") ___

__Cascabel, crouching below, has found a ridge in Even's side to hook his fingers under, carefully sanitised, and pulls up, but pauses when Even hisses through his teeth._ _

__"Alright?"_ _

__He grunts, silently negotiates with the different parts of himself, manifests something like a hinge. "Go ahead. It's ok now."_ _

__Cascabel whispers an awed curse and carefully tilts open the newly segmented abdominal plate. Even looks down, curious too, but his attention is hijacked by Cascabel's eyes—his hair, carefully tied back—his mouth slightly open in concentration. His hands, one steadied against Even's waist, one wrapped around a slender tool. Even raises his eyes to the ceiling instead, tries not to let his breathing disturb Cascabel's cautious exploration, which he feels, strange but painless, pressure and slide. He can still feel his pulse between his shoulder-blades. His hair makes little abortive movements against his neck._ _

__There is a bright jolt, from his side all the way up his spine and back down into his groin, and he fails to stifle a moan. Glances down, embarrassed, and meets Cascabel's wide-eyed gaze. From where he is, perched on a little stool, he's just above eye-level with Even's crotch, but also: there are wires and delicate clamps hanging out of what's basically an access hatch in Even's flank. Now that he focuses on it, he can sense each one: no particularly new or interesting tech, but he knows in a blink how he'd have to reach to incorporate them into himself, the properties and usefulness of their materials, abstractly and intimately, like the scents of herbs. Cascabel's holding a slightly curved sensor, glistening with moisture, connected to a small screen in his other hand._ _

__"Are you—"_ _

__"Yes," Even interrupts, voice pitched unintentionally low. "Yes, keep going. Please."_ _

__"Huh."_ _

__Even watches the path of Cascabel's eyes, sees how he shifts on his stool, feels mirroring heat on his own face, clears his throat and repeats: "Please."_ _

__Cascabel smiles. Leans to the side and gently kisses the knuckles of Even's left hand where it's clenching against the side of the workbench, putting down the little screen and selecting something else._ _

__"I want to see where this one leads," he mutters. Even feels something press against muscles and plate: metal, ceramic, no electronics. Dull, but a pleasant pressure. He opens his eyes again just in time to see Cascabel's hand—fuck, his entire hand—move past a brace and disappear into him, questing gently past the mix of cables and tissue until Even feels that jolt again, and for a second he sees stars, and his knees buckle._ _

__"Woah, hey!" Cascabel guides him down until he's sitting on the floor, panting. Lays a chaste peck on Even's cheek that he's too out of it to reciprocate. "I'm a mechanic, not a doctor; are you ok?"_ _

__Even inventories, as his breath slows, the foreign presences in his side, Cascabel's right hand on his arm, slightly damp, the pounding between his legs, and nods._ _

__Cascabel hums happily. "Good!" He bends his head to carefully remove the wires and braces from Even's body. His hands tremble, a little. He loses a tug-of-war over the last of the wires—just a small snack, he surely can't begrudge him that—which appears to pull the chitin plate closed flush behind it like a slamming door. Cascabel snorts out a startled, artless laugh, and Even feels warm and relieved and pulls him in for a real kiss. Cascabel slides his arms around Even's neck and grins. "Next time I'll rig up a bed for you to lie on."_ _


End file.
